Gimli's Golden Goddess
by Sonia
Summary: A golden warrior has caught Gimli's eye. A vignette in the key of dwarf. . .


Disclaimer – All characters are the domain of JRR Tolkein and borrowed with respect. This has been written to humour the part of me that is continually asking "what if?" No money is being made from this story. 

A/N – One of the nicest surprises about Two Towers was the sense of humour displayed by a certain dwarf - not to mention a certain undercurrent of affection between Eowyn and Gimli. Hopefully, this vignette in the key of dwarf is the best of both those worlds. 

What would a Shield Maiden of Rohan want with me?

Yet I want everything with her and for her. 

Her beauty is obvious - much like the elf queen Galadriel. She is a golden lady, a goddess of the same league as the ruler of Lothlorien. Yet Galadriel is bound to Celeborn for eternity and far be it from me to usurp that sacred, magical union. 

I don't think there is a problem for a dwarf to have a thing for blondes. 

The journey from Rohan to Helms Deep is a revealing one. As you lead my mount across the plains we talk about the apparent lack of dwarf women. Aragorn banters with you, sharing some mindless remarks about dwarf women having beards. 

Humph! He must be angsting over Arwen again. Yet you look at him in the same way as someone who has just been enchanted. 

What's he got that I haven't? Apart from being several inches taller . . .

At that point, my mount bolts, the reins are pulled from your grasp and I land on the plains in a manner most unbecoming a dwarf. 

I hope this misfortune will bring the compassion and gentleness of your touch on my body. The sound of your melodic laugh does my battle hardened soul good, not to mention the pressure of your hand on my shoulder. 

This has been one of the few times on this accursed quest I could say I was truly happy. Even though my tailbone hurts beyond belief. 

The attack by the wolves of Isengard came at a great cost to our party. Thoughts of your courage in leading the women and children of Rohan to Helms Deep and the memory of your infectious laugh give me strength to survive one of the wolves landing on me and threatening to turn me into a dwarf sandwich for elevenses. 

Who knew? Before all of this I thought a smile from a certain blonde elf queen was enough to stir a red-blooded dwarf's senses. Now it's different with an earthly beauty in this realm of magic capturing my heart. 

Aragorn frees me from my wolverine prison and re-commits himself to the melee. It was the last I was to see of Isildur's Heir for some time. The corpses had been piled and the riders of Rohan began setting them alight. At least I know your elegant, lithe body won't be amongst the dead and wounded in spite of your pleas to Theoden to fight with us. 

My lady Eowyn, it would have been an honour to draw swords with you but I am happier knowing you are somewhere between here and Helms Deep and hopefully safe. 

The aftermath of any battle is far worse than the rigours of combat. The sickening feeling of not knowing if your friends were to continue the quest after so many had been lost already is overwhelming. I join the elf to stand over an orc who tells us that Aragorn had fallen over a cliff. With that the orc succumbed to his death warrant, leaving the elf and I with too many unanswered questions. 

These queries were answered soon enough when Legolas took the Evenstar from the orc's ugly, mutated hand. How was I meant to tell you of the passing of a man who had become the leader of our quest when I hardly accepted the circumstances myself? All I knew was that you should hear of this tragedy from the lips of one person – me. 

I spent the remainder of the journey to Helms Deep wondering how I was meant to break the news to you. Yet the sight of you frantically casting your gaze over the riders as we enter the fortress breaks my heart. 

Helmet in hand and my heart in my mouth, I tell you as gently as possible that Aragorn has fallen in battle. I can almost hear your heart breaking. I wished I were more of whatever you wanted, so I could openly provide comfort rather than stand here watching you look so forlorn and without hope. I wanted nothing more than to sit on the stone steps with you hold you and chase the ghosts away. 

Word of an approaching orc army, numbering in the tens of thousands chased all thoughts of mourning away. Even though there were times I caught the elf - who had just about withdrawn from our new society and showed little interest in battle plans, eating or living in general – taking the Evenstar out of his pocket and just looking at it. What did he expect? Aragorn to communicate with him through it? Then the sight of you, staring across the plains from the battlements, looking for a sign, any sign of hope with your golden mane flying like your personal royal standard just about made me cry in public at a time when I thought all tears had been shed. 

A lone rider at the gates a few weeks later threw our world into uproar. Aragorn had somehow survived. I force my way through the crush of people to hug the returned warrior when I hear the scurrying of your boots on the stones. All I can do is drink in the image of your transformed face as you throw yourself into Aragorn's arms. While I am not sure if he returns your affections seeing you smile again does my heart good. 

If we should all survive this battle, all I want is to keep walking with you, laughing with you, watching you smile, fight by your side as equal warriors and be heart-bound to you by ties as delicate and as strong as the Evenstar.


End file.
